Page 58 of Always Knew It Was You

And after she left, I would always sit there and cry and wonder what I did to deserve it.

She would also have that same vindictive gleam that I see in Micah’s grandfather’s eyes now. And Micah might not see it, and might think his grandfather “isn’t that bad,” but it’s his affection for the older man that blinds him.

I see Mark Landing for what he is though–a mean old classist bully.

“Tainted?” The word slides out of my mouth, hard as steel. “You think his blood is tainted because he was adopted?”

His grandfather raises his eyebrows. “You don’t look surprised. So he told you?”

“No, he didn’t. But he wouldn’t need to. It wouldn’t have mattered to me anyway and I would never call him ‘tainted’ because of it.”

The man takes a sip of his coffee. “Maybe, but your parents might if they find out the truth about his parentage.”

“Grandfather,” Micah’s voice is different. I’ve never heard him like this before. Hoarse. A little shaky. Restrained. “Enough.”

But the man keeps going. He doesn’t even spare Micah a glance as he continues talking to me. “My daughter-in-law used to do a lot of charity work in inner cities. At first, I encouraged it, because that kind of publicity was good for the family name. Plus, it kept her mind off her endless miscarriages.

“And then one day, she went to a foster care center where a sick one-year-old boy was brought in. He was the son of one of those riffraff that sleep on the city streets and his parents couldn’t afford to take care of him anymore, so they’d left him on the doorsteps.”

“Grandfather,” Micah begs again. He doesn’t like this story. He doesn’t want him to tell it.

But the man continues as though Micah never spoke. “For whatever reason, my daughter-in-law decided to take him in. Maybe it was because she had just found out she couldn’t have any more children, or maybe she was just too religious and saw Micah as some kind of sign. She always did pray for another son. Or perhaps it was because her first son wanted a brother. In any case, Micah was soon adopted, and we’ve raised him as a Landing all his life. And he is a Landing in everything but blood, understand that. But to be fair to you, I also want you to know that you will be getting a Landing with tainted blood.”

“That’s bullshit.” The words explode out of me, shocking Micah’s grandfather into a wide-eyed stare. “It doesn’t matter who his parents are, his blood isn’t tainted and you don’t get to say that to him. You think you’re better than him because you’re a Landing by blood? How do you even know? Who says your mother didn’t get knocked up by some two-bit asshole boyfriend of hers and just passed you off as your father’s kid.”

The shock explodes all over the old man’s expression.

“Carly,” Micah says, but I’m too heated to stop.

“Blood doesn’t make you better than him. It doesn’t make him tainted either. I’m sure you think you’re very nice people and pat yourselves on the back for adopting a poor, sick child, but it doesn’t count if you’re going to throw it in his face every chance you get. It isn’t his fault that his parents couldn’t afford to keep him, nor is it his fault that they were drug addicts or whatever you think they were. And while we’re on the topic, why do you assume they were bad people simply because they were homeless? It would be one thing if they were abusive to him, but you didn’t mention anything about it. Tons of people are homeless not for any faults of their own, but that’s because so many cities are run by selfish, egomaniacs like you who can only think about bloodlines and power while everyone else rots underneath their feet. And for you to complain about homelessness as though it wasn’t partially the fault of people like you is franklylaughablyhypocritical–”

“Carly!” Micah barks this time, loud enough to alert the people at the next table. “Enough.”

I finally turn to watch his eyes glittering in anger.

“We’re leaving.” His chair scrapes across the terrazzo, and he takes my hand.

“Yes, that’s probably for the best,” his grandfather says tightly as Micah practically drags me out of my seat, and marches me out to the car. We get in and, he doesn’t say anything, simply turns it on and starts to drive.

I’m silent too, seething at what just happened.

What an odious old man.

It’s good we left. I didn’t know how I was going to endure and stomach a meal while listening to all that bullshit about homeless people from a man who’d probably never struggled in his life. Not to mention what he called his own grandson. Unbelievable. No wonder Micah is the way he is.

I’m surprised he didn’t turn out worse actually.

I’m so worked up I can’t even think straight. God, it’s a good thing this relationship is fake, because I can’t imagine how insufferable it would be to have to join that family and listen to that bullshit more than once.

As we finally get back to the hotel, Micah passes the car key to the valet without a word and storms up the entrance steps. We take the elevator up with the same stony silence. He doesn’t take my hand again as we head down the halls to our hotel room.

Finally, as he closes the door, he turns on me.

“Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say all that shit to my grandfather?”

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